Holed Up
by Mrs.KayDeeEm
Summary: I have always loved the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when Marion asks Indiana Jones, "Where doesn't it hurt?" and then Indy points to several places, which she kisses. This is a Richonne one-shot built around that scene. After escaping from the prison, Michonne reunites with Carl and Rick, and takes care of Rick's wounds.


Michonne peered through the slats of the blinds at the window. She could see Carl sitting at a table, reading. She tapped lightly at the window. Carl jumped and pulled his weapon. Michonne knocked again, but in a pattern. Carl eased over to the window. He peeked out between the slats. Two big brown eyes peered back at him.

"Michonne!"

Carl went over to the back door and let Michonne in. He had never been hugged so tightly or so long before. As soon as they released the embrace, Michonne hugged him again.

"Are you okay?" Michonne asked, concerned. She looked him all over, checking his face, arms, hair.

Carl grabbed her hands. "I'm okay Michonne."

"Where's your dad?"

"He's in here. He's been unconscious for several hours. He woke up at some point during the night, but he's been out since then."

They turned the corner and entered the room where Rick was lying. Michonne knew Rick had been hurt pretty badly, but she wanted to remain composed for Carl's sake. The quiver of her bottom lip gave her away, which she tried to hide by keeping her face hidden from Carl.

Michonne sat down on the edge of the sofa beside Rick. Her eyes slowly took in every inch of his face, inspecting each gash, bruise, and scratch. She gently unbuttoned his shirt to check his abdomen. Dark bruises. She began to wonder how Rick had made it away from the prison in his condition. She wiped away a tiny tear from the corner of her eye before turning to Carl.

She placed her hand on Carl's face, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

"One hundred twelve ounces of pudding, some pork rinds, and some stale cereal," declared Carl.

"One hundred twelve ounces of pudding?" Michonne asked, smiling.

"And I ate it all." They both laughed.

Michonne got to work. After a little searching around the house, she found something a little more appropriate for Carl to eat. She cleaned herself up and found some clothes to wear. She checked o Rick repeatedly, making sure the fever he seemed to have didn't get any worse. At one point Rick opened his eyes when Michonne checked his forehead. He blinked his eyes several times. His eyes brightened, he smiled, and looked pleasantly surprised. Just as Michonne was about to speak, Rick's eyelids fluttered, and he was out again. She and Carl were going to need to go on a run. Rick needed bandages, antibiotics and water. They would need to make a quick run, as Michonne was uncomfortable leaving unconscious Rick all alone.

By going through a few neighboring homes, Carl and Michonne were able to fill a single bag, getting small amounts of everything they needed or would help with the second-rate first aid Michonne was going to provide.

"Carl, I'm going to need you to help me move your dad. I won't be able to get to all of his cuts and bruises if he stays on the couch. We can just move him to this bedroom off from the living room.

First Carl and Michonne pulled the sofa away from the front door so that they could get Rick off the couch. "I'll take his head, you take his legs," Michonne said firmly. She lifted Rick's shoulders so that he was sitting upright. She placed her forearms under his armpits. Carl curled an arm around each of his father's legs. They clumsily lugged Rick to the bedroom. His slim build was definitely heavier than it looked. They barely got him on the bed.

Michonne put everything she needed on the bedside table—bandages, hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic ointment, cloths, a bowl of water, cotton balls, a half filled bottle of antibiotics and a bottle of water. Michonne decided her plan of attack; head to toe. Michonne wet a cloth in the shallow bowl and wiped away the dried blood from Rick's face. Once the blood was gone, she could tell what needed her attention. She soaked cotton balls in hydrogen peroxide, drenched each cut in peroxide, rubbed on ointment and applied bandages.

Rick awoke once more. Michonne glanced up from throwing away cotton balls to find Rick watching her, looking delighted to see her.

"You're here."

"I am. I need you to take these antibiotics." Michonne helped him sit up a little and pushed a pill into his mouth. She held the water bottle, allowing Rick to drink. She pushed a second pill into his mouth and Rick swallowed it down with another swig from the water bottle. Michonne eased Rick back down onto the bed. Before his head was on the bed, Rick had passed out again.

Michonne unbuttoned Rick's shirt. Unfortunately there wasn't much she would be able to do about the deep bruises to his stomach and side. Despite the size and darkness of the bruises, Michonne couldn't feel any broken ribs. She cleaned up a couple of scratches Rick had on his chest.

Michonne needed to take care of the bullet wound in his thigh. She undid the button and zipper on Rick's jeans. Michonne stood at the end of the bed and reached up to tug his jeans down around the thighs. She then tugged from the ankles until Rick was free of his jeans. Michonne had thought about getting into Rick's pants, but this wasn't what she had in mind.

Michonne didn't see an exit would, so she would have to dig out the bullet. The thought of digging into Rick's thigh made Michonne a little nauseous.

Michonne called to Carl from the room, "I hate to drag you away from those books, but I'm going to need you to help with your dad. I need to try to get this bullet out. Can you hold a flashlight so I can see what I'm doing? And I need you here in case your dad wakes up."

Carl didn't have a problem holding the flashlight, but he did have a problem watching. He could see from Michonne's face that he wasn't the only one that felt that way. Michonne looked like she was going to throw up. He remembered the Greene family-_we've all got jobs to do. _Carl tried to think of a way to take their minds off of it.

"DC or Marvel?" Carl asked plainly.

"Are you serious?" Michonne asked incredulously, but amused.

Carl sounded very serious. "I have two words for you—Superman and Batman."

Michonne was having a hard time grabbing and pulling the bullet. She was concerned that she might have to cut the wound to get the bullet out. She continued digging. "Let me school you for a minute, my friend. Marvel's characters are more realistic and scientifically possible. Many of them are humans, not aliens like DC. Most Marvel characters have lots of different abilities, not just strength, flight, and invincibility. Marvel even has more female characters. The X-men was created to represent racial prejudice, racism, and discrimination. So, Marvel does a better job connecting to the real world. I have two words for you too. Better movies. Next time you want to argue with a lawyer, bring you're A game. I'm going to have to educate you about Luke Cage, Black Panther, Monica Rambeau, and Misty, ugh, Knight." Michonne smiled triumphantly. The bullet was free.

Michonne rinsed the wound and used gauze and bandages to pack into the hole. Luckily, Carl had found an ACE bandage during their run. Michonne covered the bullet hole with more gauze and wrapped Rick's thigh with the bandage.

"Thanks for helping, Carl. Maybe you should go . . . study. Let me know when you want me to drop some more knowledge on you." Michonne smiled sweetly and batted her eyelids.

Since Rick was still sleeping, Michonne curled up in an oversized chair on the other side of the bed, and went to sleep. She awakened later to the sound of moans coming from Rick. He sounded like he was either in a lot of pain or having a nightmare. Michonne sat on the edge of the bed beside Rick. She placed her hand on his forehead to check his fever. The antibiotics seemed to be working because Rick was no longer warm, but she still needed to get more antibiotics in him. Rick's eyes opened slowly. There was a flash of recognition and his eyes seemed to smile.

"Michonne."

"Hey you. Why is it that every time you wake up, you act like you're haven't seen me in years?"

Rick gave a small smile.

"How do you feel?"she asked, concerned.

"I've been better, but I've been worse. Must've had a good medic."

"Do you want to try to sit up and eat something, maybe get some more meds in you?"

"Sounds like a good idea." Rick struggled to sit up or move at all. Michonne reached out to help.

"I've got it," Rick argued. "I don't need help."

"You know you do," Michonne countered.

Michonne stood up for more leverage and tried to lift as Rick shifted in the bed.

"Ow."

Michonne tried a different position. They tried again. Rick grimaced and moaned. Michonne moved positions and tried again. Rick hissed through his teeth, as he was finally able to get into an upright position.

Frustrated, Michonne sighed, then smiled, "Where doesn't it hurt Rick?"

"Here," Rick pointed to his right elbow. Michonne rubbed it lightly, and then kissed it.

"Feel better?" Michonne asked.

"And here," Rick pointed to his the right side of his forehead.

Michonne gently placed a kiss on his forehead.

Rick pointed to his right eye, "This isn't bad."

Michonne placed a kiss on his eyelid.

"Here." Rick pointed to the corner of his mouth.

Michonne lightly kissed the corner of Rick's mouth. Rick sighed happily.

"I think I'm gonna be alright," Rick declared.


End file.
